Chris watched Melissa run away, shaking his head in disgust. "Crazy girl."
He dismissed the other men and took a few minutes to think about his next steps. He picked up his phone and dialed his father's number. He wouldn't say anything about Melissa's part in Alex's death, but he felt it was time for his father to hear the news.
Art Steadman was having a meeting on the other side of the city. After being defeated by the Clifton family, he had been depressed and taken time away to rest. But now, he needed to get back to work.
Despite his failures, he still worked as hard as he had before, going to and from his various meetings on time and conducting them in high spirits. He was awe-inspiring, and still well-respected amongst his colleagues.
On the inside, though, he felt empty. The failure of the war had destroyed thirty years of hard work and crushed his spirit. He felt like a walking corpse.
Art was sitting in a meeting when he saw that his son was calling. Even so, he simply hung up and carried on.
Immediately after, he received a text message from Chris.
[Dad, come to the villa tonight. I've got news. Things are going to turn around for us.]
"Turn around?", he thought over.
Art's brain kickstarted. It was as if his mind had been a barren wasteland, but now it had been watered and the first few sprouts of delicate green grass were beginning to grow.
Of course, he had his doubts about this news that Chris had promised. He simply texted back, [Good.] But he allowed a glimmer of hope to spark in his heart.
After he finished work that evening, he directed his driver to take him to the family villa.
"Dad, you're here," Chris immediately stood up when he saw his father coming in.
"What's up? Go ahead." Art was calm as usual. He took off his coat, hung it on the hanger, sat on the sofa, and lit a fine Cuban cigar.
"Alex may be dead," Chris told his father.
Art stopped smoking his cigar. He looked at Chris, surprised, but his sharp eagle eyes were focused.
"It's like this," and Chris sat down and shared the story with his father.
"His car hasn't been down for weeks, so I'm almost certain that he's dead in the Appalachian Mountains," Chris concluded.
"He's dead?" After listening to his son, Art believed that the probability of Alex being dead was quite high. His mind processed the information quickly.
"Father, that girl, Melissa, also revealed to me that when he was in New York, Woodsworth and Ken Stokes worked for Alex. His family is rich, too. Considering what Alex did in the past, I think he's the banned son of the Ambrose family!" Chris continued.
Art was surprised yet again. Thinking briefly, it seems true that Alex would be the banned son of the Ambrose family. He took a drag of his cigar and exhaled a puff of blue smoke.
"The statement issued by the Ambrose family is very clear. Alex is no longer considered to be a member of their family, so if we kill him, they won't do anything to us," Art concludes.
"Great minds think alike," Chris grinned.
Like his son, Art also believed that getting Alex out of the way would open up many opportunities for them. It was likely that he would be able to restore all that he had lost and return to power with capital and interest.
Later, Art stood up and went to the sitting room. He picked up the telephone, paused for a moment, and then decisively dialed the number to call the Blood Brothers Gang.
This truly was a chance for things to turn around for him. But if he wanted things to change, he would need help from the Blood Brothers. This news needed to be disclosed to them as soon as possible.
"Hello, Mr. Steadman. Is there any news?" Tyson Slade, the leader of the Blood Brothers Gang, answered. Based on the time of Art's call, Tyson could guess why he was calling.
"There have been some recent developments that I must share with you." Art lowered his voice. "It seems that Alex is dead."
The sentence dropped like a huge bomb in Tyson's ears.
"Who killed him? "It seems"? What does that mean?" he asked.
First, Alex had defeated Damon Walker, which had caused a big problem for the Blood Brothers Gang and their plans to return to the east coast. Now, someone had killed Alex. How many more unknown martial arts talents could there be in this country? The thought worried him.
"It appears that he was killed with black poison water. We can't completely confirm his death because no one has found his body. However, he and several of his female students went to the Appalachian Mountains, and no one has come down in weeks. So, we're guessing that he has died in the mountains."
"Is it not possible to survive in the Appalachian Mountains for a few weeks after taking black poison water?"
"As far as I know, it is a complicated terrain. There are large areas of no man's land, and several gangs living in those mountains. No one has ever survived there for a few weeks. The probability of survival is less than one percent. So that's why I'm telling you, Alex most likely died there," Art said.
"Well, Damon's teacher wanted to avenge his death, but it seems that that won't be possible now. Oh, it's a shame!" Tyson lamented.
He had hoped that the Blood Brothers would be the ones to destroy Alex. At least that way, his death would have been seen as their revenge against the martial arts world in their ongoing feud.
"But whatever, it's a good thing that he's dead." Tyson shrugged. "It would have been a big obstacle for our gang to return to Baltimore with someone like Alex running around. Now that he's dead, everything will be much easier."
"My thoughts exactly, Mr. Slade. When are you going to return to Baltimore?" Art urgently hoped that the Blood Brothers Gang could return as soon as possible. They could help him recover his previous position of influence in the city, and even dispose of the Clifton family so that he could unify Baltimore's underworld.
"Don't worry, Mr. Steadman, our time will come soon. You can count on that." And with that, Tyson hung up the phone.
He sighed deeply with a mix of relief and frustration. He couldn't believe Alex was dead.
Tyson dialed Lee Harshaw's number. He needed to be told the news. As the phone rang, he looked at the large screen on his wall, images of sea sharks gliding slowly and menacingly by.
"Boss, do you want me to go to Baltimore to avenge Damon?" were the first words out of Lee's mouth. These days, he carried his hatred for Alex deep in his heart. He felt like he couldn't breathe, and he wouldn't be able to again until he had avenged Damon's death.
"Alex is dead," Tyson said, getting straight to the point.
"Dead?" It was a simple sentence, and yet Lee was confused. "How can he be dead? He was supposed to die by my hand. He can't be dead. If he's dead, I can't avenge Damon! Boss, who killed him?"
"He was poisoned, and then he went to the Appalachian Mountains. He hasn't been seen in weeks. He may have died of the poisoning, or he may have frozen or starved up there", explained Tyson.
"Ah, that punk! It's not fair that he died like that." Lee gritted his teeth, "I'm so sorry."
Despite his apology, though, Lee couldn't help but be pleased. He began to jump up and down and punch the air with glee. He knocked the towering trees around him. He cracked and splintered the ice-covered lake with his fist and smashed a large stone into little pieces. He just couldn't believe it. Alex was dead!